


The Sirens call in the ocean waves

by Puluhuzi



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Horror, Kidnapping, if I was crueler I would tag this ancestor x waif, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-17 09:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puluhuzi/pseuds/Puluhuzi
Summary: An expanded story based on the Ancestors description of the Sirens backstory lore. First chapter is his perspective and second will be hers.





	1. The Ancestor tries to summon the Deep Ones *seinfeld theme*

**Author's Note:**

> god I just got to the siren and her story is so sad I had to write something about it. admittedly this is pretty crappy minimal editing but I'll go back and fix it when im awake.

The blood moon hung high over the isolated beach. white sand and grey water seemingly frozen into unnatural silence by its light. A young man, the lord of his estate stood at the edge of the pier, safe in the knowledge that the common folk would have long since shuttered themselves in to avoid the ill omens associated with the lunar cycles. Scrolls and more curious tools lay scattered around him, all in service of a singularly grim idol . Carved stone of indeterminable origin, brought from a distant corner of the world. Curving and twisting designs which made it almost unpleasant to look at.

As the moon finally reached the apex of its ascent, he raised an anathemic blade, and after a moments hesitation, he dragged the knife across his palm, smearing the sanguine offering on the idol, and muttering words in a language not meant to be said with a human tongue. The words rang out across as the seemingly abandoned moor, carried by that unnatural stillness in the air. And He waited.

Most would be wary of the beach at night, legends of creatures stalking the dark, emerging in a blue moon to terrorize the surface. Some would dismiss this as superstition, But the young man felt no fear, simply anticipation. 

A break in the quiet, dark shapes seemed to form in the brackish water below. A foaming precipitation from which, a scaled hand reached out, the dim light outlining them, but only hinting at the extent of the alien nature of their being. He recited the ancient words he had spent so long studying. A pact to be struck, a deal to be made.

His family had once been opulent and well regarded, certainly, their manor, which sat perched above the cove, still commanded the respect of those who would visit. But the decline had been slow, precipitous, and accelerated by the young lords eagerness for the macabre. The guests of noble houses and scholars of obscure arcana with whom he'd spent so freely on wine and distraction so as to secure their patronage had been driven away as his interests grew stranger, stranger still. 

Eventually he was forced to seek alternative forms of income, taxing his tenants to pay for his shipments from foreign lands and imported plants of exotic use. Craftsmen were driven out and their meager savings plundered, and eventually the farmstead which had provided the wealth of food to the estate turned barren. The desperation of the farmhands seemingly infesting the land itself.

He turned to his studies for a solution. A simple mantra: "The gold must flow". Led him to the stories of the creatures which had once dealt freely with men. Bound by their esoteric laws and wants. Ye burdened by riches, as he saw it. He pieced together the ritual that would call them back to the shore.

And thus, The agreement had been met. The idol, but one more item of more troubling portent, a sacrifice, young and virginal to be given to the depths. He did not hesitate, "The life of one for the good of the many." He thought to himself, and He knew he had a village full of young maids desperate to escape their circumstances. 

His newfound cohorts slunk back into the depths, silence suddenly returning. The deal to be completed upon delivery of their terms. 

collecting his tools he began to scheme how he would deliver what he'd promised. Faces from his increasingly sparse visits to the hamlet flashing in the mind, But before he could move to cover the idol, He heard a curious stirring behind him, a sharp gasp carried on the air, and a shape pressed against the rock face of the cove.


	2. A girl experiences a series of unfortunate events.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would perhaps be advisable to look away.

She had been born on the thirteenth, a bad omen, her father had said at the time.  
He had been a sailor once, before settling in the hamlet his daughter would call home. With savings enough to support their meager life and the love of a local girl, he was resolved to start anew, although he never quite set aside the superstition of his old life.

The girls mother had been a maid to the manor overlooking the village, and the girl would keep fond memories of being taught stories as her mother had folded laundry, and being taught the ways of housekeeping. And when she was at home, the girls father loved to share the wisdom and advice a life at sea had taught him. 

"Beware of men named Jonah." was one he was fond of.  
"and be sure to never whistle on a ship." was another.  
"but we're not on a ship!" she'd reply.  
and he'd look side to side and rub his chin before saying "well I suppose we're not, so no harm in me teaching you a song or two."  
and she would giggle, and blow out her tongue as she tried to emulate him.

He took her aside when she had turned 10, "One day" he said, "The sea will call to you, as it does to all who carry a mariners blood. But do not listen, young one, for the sea is a cruel mistress, and she will take everything you have, and more".

She hadn't understood his warning then, and she'd quickly put it to the back of her mind as she and her mother made their way to the manor, a short hike from their cottage. 

In those early days she had seen him around the house as she completed her duties. The young scion of the estate was brimming with boyish charm and ambition in those moments their paths crossed. Often the estate would host foreign dignitaries, visitors of other noble houses.  
"Keep your eyes down, young one." her mother used to say.  
"We do not want to offend our hosts."  
Her mother had been content with her station, and tried to teach her daughter to be the same, taking her to mass, and impressing in her the virtues of modesty and charity.  
Although these never stuck. Her precociousness was implacable, and her parents were at a loss to stop it.

And it was at that time there was a slow change, the manor eventually became less and less friendly.  
As the then lord aged and his son began to take on a more active role in the running of the estate, it was simple at first, guests arrived and left with hurried intensity, occasional construction projects sprung up in the hamlet below. But as he quickly grew bored of conventional tastes, and when the displays of depravity which the manner would eventually become known grew too flagrant, the girls mother refused to bring her with her anymore.  
Whatever she had seen had aged her, the rumors too numerous to describe or count, but she refused to tell what truly went on, but her daughter could understand it, a shadow settle over her.  
She told her to never seek work in the manor again, before slowly succumbing to a strange sickness on a cold winter morning,  
her father, equally as lost as his child, threw himself into his work, to provide for his now only family. He took up work as a farmhand at the mill. Supplementing his savings in the hopes to give his daughter the chance he thought she deserved. But Eventually his years of hardship caught up with him, his body grew frail beyond his years, as if the earth itself sapped his strength. And when the old farm was foreclosed on, his body eventually failed him.

She was alone then, the greedy burgher had used the death of her parents as an excuse to steal their land, greasing the palms of the lord to cast her out on the street. She slept in the alleys between the buildings of the hamlet. But the folk of the village knew her, and remembered her kindly parents. She frequently found leftovers from the tavern deposited where she slept, and tattered clothes given for blankets. Though friends were few and far between.  
The destitute tended to slip over the gaze, unwanted and unacknowledged, simply by being inconspicuous she was able to overhear many a conversation of the state of the unnatural things said to be going on in the manor. The tales of witchcraft which trickled down to her fascinated her, half formed suspicions and stories occupied her idle mind.  
She saw him for the first time in years while begging in the village square. A carriage off the old road had arrived laden with exotic treasures, men in strange cloaks and speaking in strange voices. And as they disembarked they were welcomed by the young lord. Now a man, His youthful intensity had grown to a confident charisma. She watched from the plinth of the statue he had erected of himself. She wonder if he remembered her. Her parents warnings rang in her head, but a morbid sense of curiosity and desperation led her to watch with intensity as the lord consorted with the strangers.  
The girl began to watch for his carriages, the unusual shipments and strange glares whenever she had a break in her scavenging. 

It was a chilly night when she witnessed him steal out of the manor, his single torch traveled down the cliffside, like a falling star against the blackness. The streets were quiet, as the common folk had abandoned the streets, this night was to be especially unlucky, but she had never put much stock in luck, despite her fathers warnings. She watched the torchlight meander down to the cove, and after rushing through the wood to catch up, she hid herself in the rocky outcroppings of the cliffs to hide herself.  
as he unslung his pack, he began rummaging through tools who's purpose she could only guess out. Before finally drawing a strange thing which she could only describe as a statue of a short, squat, and ugly creature. Looking at it, even in the moonlight and from a distance, caused her mild anxiety.  
He began to prostate himself in front of the bizarre idol.  
She sat enraptured, her mind jumping back to all the stories she had heard, the talk of wild superstition she had originally dismissed suddenly seemed much more plausible.  
Below her, he completed the strange ritual, arcane gestures and movements drawing her gaze and blinding her to the subtle change in the moonlight, the stillness in the air.  
He raised his arms to the sky, a dagger seemingly materializing in his hand, she held her hand to her mouth as she watched him drag the knife across his palm, smearing it on the idol before him.

She should have run, but something kept her glued to the spot. The stillness encapsulated her as she watched the water under the pier bubble, finally forming into a hand beneath the water.  
She felt her blood run cold, freezing her in place. her curiosity giving way to fear as the lord began to gibber into the water, a sinister air in what sounded like nonsense. Animal panic would have overtaken her mind had not the unnatural chill in her muscles and her own curiosity kept her in place.  
Finally the dark shapes, and the hand receded, the lord wiped his hand on a handkerchief before beginning to place his objects in his pack, and the spell was broken, she realized what she was witnessing, and as soon as she regained her senses she fell back, quickly covering her mouth, but not before a gasp could be carried on the unnatural stillness. 

“hello?” his voice rang out. fierce eyes looking on her hiding place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah heck I had this in my drafts for a while but didn't know how to end it succulently so I guess we need another chapter.


End file.
